Lions in a Dog Eat Dog World
by phoenix360
Summary: Athena Reese is an ordinary girl, in an ordinary town and living an ordinary life. Or at least she thought she did until she overhears her father's dodgy dealings about two men called Heyman and Punk and comes across the hounds of justice, The Shield. Now she would like nothing more than to have her ordinary life back. That is, if she isn't killed first. No Fluff/Smut/Romance.
1. Sierra

******A/N:** This was originally written as a second person narrative where you, the reader, placed yourself in the main characters shows and experienced the story with them. Sadly, that kind of story isn't allowed on this site, so I had to change it to first person. The original intention is still the same, so, even though I've given the narrator a name and personality, I've left her appearance intentionally vague so you can imagine her however you like. **  
**

_"Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall". - Measure for Measure by William Shakespeare. _

* * *

_Chapter 1: Sierra_

"Hey, mate, how's it going? Listen, I'm just calling up to find out if there's been any word back from Punk or Heyman. It has been a couple of days, you know?"

I try to drown out the conversation my dad's having on the phone, finding his loud voice is distracting me too much from my reading. Granted, the book is just some god-awful, smutty romance that's rife with purple prose, but I promised my friends that I'd give it a read and I can't do that while my dad's around. I can only hope that he finishes up soon and goes back to watching the football on the TV. Or locks himself up in his room, I really don't give a shit.

Name's Athena. Athena Reese, but friends just call me Thea. At elementary school I used to get a lot of snickers from the other kids about my name. I was able to ignore it until finally, on one particularly bad day – I think when I was ten – I asked my mom just what the hell she was thinking giving me that kind of name in this day and age. Don't get me wrong, Athena's a nice name and not many can say they're named after a Greek goddess; it's just… odd, you know?

Well, apparently, one of the nurses was a real Greek mythology lover and suggested the name to my mom. Lucky for her, my mom, having spent hours in labour and all pepped-up on painkillers, couldn't have cared less and went with it. If anything, it saved her having to go to the trouble of coming up with a name for me herself. Now that I know that, I find it all kind of hypocritical, especially considering how huffy she always got when I said I wished I had a more ordinary name.

That was about eight years ago and my mom's now long gone. She ran off to Barbados (or Cyprus, whatever) with her, according to my pops, "pretty boy, poet lover" when I was fifteen, leaving behind a note and a very scorned, alcoholic dad in her place. I took it all in my stride and carried on with my life as normal. This may sound mean to my mom, but the only thing that really changed in my life as a result of her leaving was that my dad drank and hated my guts even more than before. (I was an accident, apparently).

Speaking of my dad, for the past couple of days my old man's been acting all secretive and shady, refusing to tell me next to nothing and always hiding away in his room by himself. He's been doing it so frequently that I'm starting to feel as if I'm the only one living in the house and he's some poltergeist or something. In fact, lately, the only time he really comes out is to have his breakfast, lunch and dinner, and to make a few calls, all of which were always about two men called "Punk" and "Heyman". Whoever the hell they were…

At first I was really curious and kept asking my dad just what he was up to, my mind rife with possibilities. But, when each and every time his response was to yell at me and order me, as he so eloquently put it, to "piss off to your room", I gave up and stopped caring. I reasoned that the reality was probably something really mundane anyway. Anything my dad did normally was.

"So they're not returning our calls? _Fucking cocksuckers!_ Alright then, we'll just up the ante! You tell Maddox to send that walrus, Heyman, the photographs. Can't ignore us if they know we aren't bluffing and really have evidence, hehe."

'_Or maybe not…'_

I would have loved to have heard more of the conversation, but then my dad noticed me watching out of the corner of my eyes and listening in. Needless to say the old bastard went ballistic and practically chucked me out of the living room, ordering me to go upstairs and stay upstairs.

So, naturally, I didn't. What I did instead was, put some eye shadow on my mocha eyes, straighten out my long hair and put on my favourite red dress, and go hang out with some friends. I mean, like hell was I going to be cooped up in my room for the rest of the night! By the time I got back home, my dad was no longer on the phone but back in his room and now fast asleep, snoring his head off.

_'Shame, because I really want to know what the conversation was about. It was just starting to get interesting...'_

* * *

My dad must be getting _really_ paranoid because, the next night when he's on the phone again, rather than just send me to my room like before, he kicks me out of the house! And all because he thought I was listening in on his conversation from the stairs! _Sheesh!_

That doesn't bother me too much. After all, it's not the first time my dad's thrown a tantrum like a child and left me outside, hoping I'll come crawling back. No, what bothers me is that it's currently ten o'clock at night and I'm scared shitless!

The area I live in is not particularly the safest of places. There are more robberies, murders, and gang violence than I'd care to admit, while going outside once it gets dark is never the wisest of things to do. For every street that is safe there is sure to be an alleyway or park nearby that has some dangerous people lurking nearby.

Lucky for me, the school I go to is in a ridiculously close proximity to my house. It's only a five minute walk at best, and the underground pass I have to walk through every day to get there is normally empty during the school hours: 8am and 3.30am. In fact, I can honestly say that, in all my years going to and from my high school, I've never once walked down that way before or after those times.

Until tonight that is.

I hadn't planned on going anywhere near there. Underpasses were creepy enough in the daytime, so God knows what it'd look like in the night. But then, I also hadn't planned on been stuck outside late at night, or it pouring down with rain while I was. My lousy, no good, loser of a father wasn't going to suddenly just let me back in, so I ran to there, the only place I knew I could dry myself off.

I reach it in no time, but quickly realise that I'm not the only one there. Turns out some baaaad shit is currently going down.

Three muscular men are giving a beatdown to another, much smaller man. To my horror, I recognise all four of them. I've seen these guys on the news before...

The black-clad trio who were dressed like law enforcement officers and administering the beatdown are apparently a renegade group called The Shield.

The one with the two-tone hair – half blonde, half black – is called Seth Rollins.

He's super passionate about honour, integrity and all that bull, and _really_ loves the things he gets to do as a member of the group - You know, beating the shit out of people "for the better good", terrorizing them and throwing his weight around, acting like he's some goddamn hero. My friend thinks he's "so cool" and "super cute", but, then again, she's always been a sucker for a 'bad boy' types, so go figure.

The one with the slicked back, brown hair who's pounding the ever-loving crap out of the poor guy currently on the ground is Dean Ambrose.

_Dangerous. Unhinged. Deranged. Volatile._ All these words describe Ambrose perfectly. As my friend put it, he's "a complete psycho" and "the violent, sadistic one of the group." I don't doubt her for one second. The photos of the bloodied, broken bodies of their victims in the newspapers and the many, _many_ stories of how he's a monster or like the devil himself are proof enough for me that this guy is bad news, full stop.

And the tall, imposing guy towering over all of them goes by the name of Roman Reigns.

He's a savage Samoan who's a complete and utter beast and fucks up anyone who dares stand in his way. My friend told me that he's "the quiet badass one of the group who only speaks when he needs to" - which I find ironic because, right now, the man's been anything _but_ quiet. No, while Rollins and Ambrose are mauling the man much like a pack of wild dogs, Reigns is trash talking and roaring like he's a goddamn lion!

That might sound ridiculous but, in the flesh, it's fucking terrifying!

In their own words, they were advocators of justice who were trying to right all the wrongs they saw around them. And, unlike some of the gangs in the area who just run their mouths off, they backed up their words. If they thought someone was committing an injustice, they dealt with them swiftly and thoroughly, showing no mercy or restraint for their victim.

Course, as far as _I_ was concerned, the three of them were nothing but nasty, violent, sanctimonious a-holes who thought they owned the place! It was because of them that people were living in fear that they might do or say something to piss them off and, _BAM_, it would a picture of _their_ corpse on the news or in newspapers!

There's no way in hell I plan to let that happen to me as well. Rain be damned, I'm turning around and getting as far away from these guys as I possibly can! But, as I back away and make to leave...

"Think you're tough, Braaaad!? Think you're better than us!? Oh, what's that? Speak up Brad, I can't hear you! _'Please, stop. I'm begging you'?_ Is that what you're trying to say? Awww, what's the matter, Braaaaad? You don't wanna hang with the big boys anymore? Are you starting to realise what a _failure_ of a human being you are!? _Well, answer us!_"

I hear Ambrose yell before launching into another attack. I freeze, breath hitching in my throat. I _want_ to keep on walking, but my conscience is starting to get the better of me. A man is being attacked! I can't just ignore that!

And then I hear this:

"Did you really think you could blackmail CM Punk, Maddox? Did you _really_ think you'd get away with it? Paul Heyman gave you the chance to just walk away, Bradley, and you blew it! Not only did you and your loser friends keep harassing them, you had the _audacity_ to say that you were doing it in the name of justice! We're The Shield - _WE ARE JUSTICE!_"

Rollins rants this to Maddox, all the while lifting him by his hair so the two are face to face. Not an easy feat given how Ambrose is currently in a frenzy, punching and kicking every part of Brad Maddox's body he can get his hands on.

_'Wait a sec… Punk? Heyman? Maddox? Those are the guys my dad was talking about on the phone!'_

A million questions bombard my brain and _none_ of them are particularly comforting to think about. The main one though is, _'Is my dad one of the 'loser friends' blackmailing CM Punk and Paul Heyman with Brad Maddox?'_ Well... If the phone conversation I overheard is anything to go by, then all arrows point to 'yes'.

_'Fuck.'_

'_But, wait!'_ I think, an idea having just come to my head. _'Do Heyman, Punk and The Shield know my dad? Maybe Maddox is the only one who's come into contact with them!'_ I know it's a desperate way of thinking and I'm just clutching at straws, but so what! Right now, the thought of The Shield breaking into my house at night and doing the same thing to me what they're doing to Brad Maddox is scaring the almighty crap out of me!

_'How can he still be conscious after all that!?'_ I think in horror as I see Maddox weakly begin to crawl away. Sadly, his efforts are futile.

"Where do you think you're going?! You ain't going _nowhere!_ Get up, _fool!_" I jump as Roman screams a colossal war-cry at Maddox, kicking the struggling man in the stomach. Not in a patient mood, he takes a step back and motions for Ambrose and Rollins hoist him to his feet. "Get him up! _ .UP!_ It's time to take a ride, little tiny man! It's time for you to _die!_"

Ambrose and Rollins lift the dazed Maddox up, resting his legs on Reign's shoulders. From there, all three raise him up even higher and then, in a moment which has me fighting back the urge to scream, slam him down upon the concrete floor. _Hard_. A sickening crack rings out and Maddox's leg starts to convulse, the only part of him seemingly showing any signs of life.

"Heh, nice knowing ya, Brad" Ambrose snickers, patting a roaring Reigns on the back.

"BELIEVE IN THE SHIIIIELD!" yells Rollins to Maddox.

I doubt there's much that can be done for Maddox now. The guy is so injured at this point that it's a certainty that, if he does live to see another day, he'll be wheelchair bound for life. Still, I have to do _something_, so I quietly pull out my phone and start to dial _911_. As it starts to ring, I, as slowly and quietly as I can manage, start to walk backwards, never taking my eyes off the three Shield members. I'm almost out of the clear, safe and sound (if not wet and cold) when fate - it seems life _really_ hates my guts - decides to give me the middle finger...

"_Aa-choo!_" It comes so suddenly that I don't even have time to try and hold it back. Before I can stop yourself, I sneeze. Loudly, might I add. In a matter of seconds, the talking from the three men stop and things go deathly silence.

I shouldn't be surprised. It may be raining heavily but The Shield would have to be goddamn deaf _not_ to have heard me! Even worse, I sneezed so forcefully that I dropped my mobile! So I can't make a run for it until I've found the damn thing! It's wet, dark, cold and-

"Well well, boys, looks like we have ourselves a visitor! Seth, take Maddox and finish him off. Me and Roman will deal with this one" Dean Ambrose drawls, and suddenly him and Roman Reigns are bounding right towards me. I stare at them like a deer in headlights, frozen on the spot.

'_FuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFuckOoooooohfuck!'_

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**A/N:** If anyone has any suggestions please don't hesitate to tell me! Thank you for taking the time to read this and I looking forward to reading any reviews this receives!


	2. Hotel

_Chapter 2: Hotel_

I quickly come to my senses and start running. Heck, I'd be an idiot not to!

I thought my chances of escaping them were pretty good. After all, I live in this area and know it like the back of my hand! The Shield may occupy these parts every so often, but I doubt they come here enough to know all the places to hide and run to like I do.

However, in just a matter of minutes, all of that was rendered pointless. I may know the safest places to hide or what alleyways to run down when trying to escape somebody, but it seems I forgot one _very_ important tip when trying to escape Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns.

And that's to always look where I'm going.

I was running at full-speed and kept glancing back at Ambrose and Reigns to make sure they weren't nearing me. Not to mention, I wasn't really paying attention to what lay ahead or was lying on the ground. So, it should come as no surprise that my foot collided with an empty beer can just lying there on the ground. I almost managed to regain my footing, but then my trainer slid on the wet ground, sending me tumbling painfully down onto the cold, hard, wet pavement.

I hear heavy footsteps behind me nearing and scramble to my feet. I _want_ to start running again but my head is hurting real bad. I close my eyes and groan, rubbing the back tentatively. I hear Ambrose snigger behind me. "Serves you right. Only a moron would dare run from The Shield. Now, why don't you be a good girl, march yourself over here, and come back with us so we can all have a nice _'talk'_, hmmm?"

There was a witty comeback that was just dying to come out, but my sense of reason told me that that might not be the smartest of things to do right now. No, it'd be better just to try and leg it out of there - at least then I'd get something of a head start before they started chasing after me.

"We're not asking you, we're _telling_ you," Roman Reigns growled, his cold, grey eyes glowering at me. "I suggest you do what he says and get over here _NOW_, otherwise I'm about to get _very_ angry with you." He cracked his knuckles for added effect. As if he wasn't intimidating enough as it is.

Deciding to take my chances, I turn and break into a run. But, the moment Dean nonchalantly say, "Get her, Roman", my mind's instantly filled with doubt. '_Would it have been more sensible to have just followed their orders?' _Unfortunately, I don't ponder this for very longer because a hand roughly grabs the back of my hair and none too gently tugs me backwards.

"Big mistake, _little girl_" Roman says in a low voice, his grip on my hair growing even tighter. "I warned you and you didn't listen. Now it's time to suffer the consequences!"

'_Shit, shit, __SHIT!' _

That's all I think as Reigns starts walking back in Dean's direction, dragging my by the hair. I'd hoped he'd let go once he reached his team mate, but no such luck. He must be _reallllly_ pissed, because he doesn't let go once until we reach the entrance to the underpass. And, even then, he doesn't so much as let me go as roughly shove me away from him.

I hit the floor and start pawing at the ground around me, desperate to find my phone so I can try and call for help.

"Looking for this?" Ambrose dangles my phone in front of me, smirking. He then chucks it to Reigns, slowly advancing towards me. "Planning to call the cops on us, sunshine?" My heart sinks instantly and I scramble against the wall, trying to think up an excuse.

"_Little bitch_! I'll make you regret even _thinking_ of tryin' to mess with us!" Reigns snarls, and he and Ambrose close in. I'm starting to feel incredibly trapped and I'm so frightened my bodies shaking. "Know what happens to people who fuck with The Shield!?"

He drops my mobile and stamps on it. Over and over until it's just a mess of shattered pieces. His meaning is loud and clear. You end up just like Maddox and your mobile: broken and ruined. Nobody will be able to fix up my mobile back to the way it was, and nothing can bring a corpse back to life, especially one that's beaten beyond recognition.

"Look, I-I-I, I won't tell anyone about what I saw. I promise!" I manage to stutter out. It's rather cliché but it's the only thing I can think of at this moment. "Pl-Please, guys, believe me!"

Ambrose laughs at this, though there's nothing pleasant about it. "Believe you? I don't know, I mean, you don't believe in The Shield. What do ya think, Roman? Should we let Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes go?"

My heart sinks. I know Reign's answer from the malicious look on his face. "Nah, man. You know what I think we should do? I think we should teach her a lesson." He smiles, the first one I've seen on his face since I laid eyes on him. Needless to say, it sends chills up and down my spine. "Cut off her fingers and slice out her tongue."

'_What!? What the fuck!? Are you kidding me!?_ _No, no, no, NO!'_

You freeze as Ambrose removes a switchblade from his pocket, his tongue sticking out and a wicked gleam in his eyes. "I like the way you think, Roman. She can't go blabbing her pretty mouth off to the cops if she can't talk or write!"

"Woah, hold on! Lo-Look guys, this is crazy. I mean, you can't be serious, right?" Yet again, I try to duck past them and get the hell out of there, but Ambrose is ready and his arm effortlessly snakes around my waist and halts me. He shoves me at Reigns who lunges and grabs a hold of my arms, pinning them at my sides.

"Please! Please, don't do this! Do-Don't hurt me!" I begin to beg, feeling tears well up in my eyes. I try to struggle but I'm just too weak to fight back against Reigns, and his grip on me is painfully tight. Regardless of how I come out of this, I'll _definitely_ be having bruises tomorrow thanks to him! "_Fuck! _I WON'T TELL ANYONE!"

"We know you won't. Now hold still, beautiful, or you'll be losing more than just your fingers and tongue." Seeing no hesitation in either Ambrose or Reigns, I begin to cry. Ambrose's hand grabs a hold of my chin and edges the blade to my lips, his tongue hanging out and an expression on his face that makes him look like a kid doing a drawing.

I clamp my mouth shut. No way in hell am I going to let this happen without a fight! Reigns sees this and his grip grows ever tighter. "Open _now_ or we take your teeth out as well." Ambrose nods his head in agreement.

_'Oh God, I'm so scared!'_

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**A/N:** If anyone has any suggestions please don't hesitate to tell me! Thank you for taking the time to read this and I looking forward to reading any reviews this receives!


	3. India

_Chapter 3: India_

When I had woken up that morning, I could tell by my dad's mood that the rest of the day was not going to be all that great. When my dad was in a shitty mood, everyone and everything around him had to suffer along with him. That said, I'd expected a few things to go wrong for me.

What I _hadn't_ expected was to find myself at the mercy of the notorious, "hounds of justice", The Shield. _ESPECIALLY_ with two of them threatening to mutilate me in the worst possible ways! I mean, I know they're bad news but this is _ridiculous!_

So, as Ambrose edged the blade ever nearer to my lips, and Reigns tightened his grip on my arms to a point where I feared he was trying to snap them in half, it's safe to say that my thoughts about my dear old dad weren't all that loving. Actually, to put it bluntly, I was cursing the fucker's name under the sun.

Things didn't look good for me at all. I could only struggle and resist so much before I tired myself out or they lost their patience and did even more damage than they had planned. Right now, the latter seemed more likely at this point. While Ambrose seemed content to play this sick little game of cat and mouse a little longer, Reigns was a whole different story.

"Fuck this shit! Just cut off her fingers, Dean. We'll do the tongue last!" Reigns growled, his hands seizing my wrists in a vice-like grip and holding them out.

"Fine by me", Ambrose inspected my shaking hands and then glanced at Reigns out of the corner of his eyes. "Bones are a bitch to cut through, though. This might take a while. You okay with that?"

'_Is he okay with that? IS HE OKAY WITH THAT!? He's asking HIM!?'_ I think incredulously, fighting back the urge to ask the guy if he's out of his goddamn mind. I'd only be wasting my breath - By the looks of him, he probably is.

Reigns scoffs at Ambrose's question. "Man, as long as this bitch bleeds and pays for messing with us, I don't care if this takes another goddamn hour!" A curt nod is the only response given. I realize with growing horror that even Ambrose is serious about this now. The tongue can be taken out no problem but cutting out fingers, especially with a switchblade, is a whole different ballgame.

He places the blade over my right index finger, pushing it down a little. He then leans forward so he's right up close to my face, his breath tickling my ear. I'd back away if I could. "I'm glad we didn't start with the tongue. Wanna know why?" He mutters to me. I don't respond, too freaked out, not that this deters him in anyway. He starts nodding his head repeatedly, his body jerking and twitching as if he's trying to fight off something that only he can see or hear. "If we had taken out your tongue first, I wouldn't get to hear what kind of screams you'd make as I hack off your pretty, little fingers."

And then, with no warning whatsoever, he slices a thin, deep line down my finger, before grinding the tip of the blade down into the wound. I howl as the blood starts pouring out, finding the pain is even worse then I imagined.

It's just as Reigns practically crushes my hand in an attempt to keep it still and Ambrose gets ready to start sawing my wounded finger, that Seth Rollins makes his return, messy and rubbing grime and blood off his gloves.

He looks at his teammates quizzically and then his eyes rest on me. For a split second they widen and then he's taking his phone out and looking through it. He looks at me again and then he looks back at his phone. He repeats this and then starts texting furiously, his brow furrowing. A deep sense of foreboding goes through me. _'Why's he acting like he recognizes me? This is the first time we've laid eyes on each other, isn't it!?'_

Course, that worry pales in comparison to the fear I'm feeling right now as the switchblade is held over my fingers yet again. Ambrose and Reigns paused only momentarily to ask Rollins how it went disposing of Maddox's body and to tell him that they were just dealing with, as they put it, "a wrong that needed to be righted." Then they turned their attention back to me, ready to resume their plan to hack off my fingers.

Ambrose was about to do just that until Rollins yelled at them to stop. "Dean, Roman, don't hurt her! Just let her go!" He said, no, _demanded_. I stared at him, stunned. Was Seth Rollins… _protecting_ me? Before I could say anything, the other two members of The Shield beat me to the punch. Ambrose reacted with utter confusion and slight indignation while Reigns became both defensive and aggressive, shoving me into the wall as he strode to Seth, scowling darkly at the two-toned man.

"Why not, Seth? Well? You getting soft on us? Is that it?" Man, I'm really regretting pissing this guy off. "We're The Shield, Seth. We fight for _justice!_ If you really are too much of a wimp to fight all the injustice out there, then we don't _want_ you as part of The Shield!" Unlike Reigns, Ambrose came nearer to me, making sure I couldn't make a run for it while he and the other two weren't looking.

Seth seemed to be fuming at the remarks coming from Roman Reigns, balling up his fists as if he was fighting back the urge to punch one of the two men. He cooled down quickly though and showed them his mobile, muttering something to Reigns and showing something on the mobile to Ambrose. I couldn't see anything and was frankly too preoccupied with my injured finger, trying to stem the bleeding and deal with the pain.

Whatever it was though, it seemed to change Ambrose and Reigns completely. Suddenly Ambrose was picking me up and treating me _nicely_ while Reigns was standing back, now calm and quiet rather than towering over me and throwing threats my way. As for Seth Rollins, he was texting something on his mobile again, occasionally glancing up at me.

"Seth's right. Roman and I are been too harsh on you, so we're letting you go. Just don't rat us out to the cops and everything will be fine, okay? You get to go home relatively unhurt and we get to leave, happy that we've righted yet another injustice in this world. _Everyone's_ a winner!" He smirks at you, acting like the attempted mutilation just moments ago never happened. Rather than reply, I just sit and gape at him, unable to quite believe my luck. This seems to annoy the hell out of Roman Reigns.

"Well? _Answer him!_" Reigns snarls, his temper getting the better of him.

"Ye-Yes! I won't!" I stutter, scrambling to my feet. And then I run for it, glancing back to make sure they're not planning anything. They're not. No matter how far or how fast I run, they stay rooted on the spot, talking to each other, watching me.

I'd hoped this would be the end of it. But then, the next day, the stalking started...

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**A/N:** If anyone has any suggestions please don't hesitate to tell me! Thank you for taking the time to read this and I looking forward to reading any reviews this receives!


	4. Echo

_Chapter 4: Echo_

"There's a reason they let me go..." I mutter to myself in art class, eyes repeatedly glancing outside the window in the off chance I'll catch sight of Rollins, Ambrose or Reigns. It's been a week since my run-in with The Shield and, though I kept my word and tried to pretend as if it never happened, life since then has been anything but normal.

For starters, as well as getting rid of injustice and causing panic wherever they went, The Shield had now decided to take up a new hobby: stalking me.

At first, I thought it was all in my head, that I was just traumatized after witnessing a murder as well as almost losing my fingers and tongue to them. It couldn't possibly be Dean Ambrose standing round the alleyways near my street, smirking at me much like a cat watching a mouse it knows it can catch. That wasn't really Seth Rollins, idly lounging in the park and watching me when my friends and I went to hang out there. And, when I went out food shopping, I sure as hell didn't believe that the tall guy who was there walking behind me every time I looked over my shoulder - his hair tied up in a bun, decked out in a fancy suit and sunglasses - was really Roman Reigns.

I was just being paranoid, I reasoned and reassured to myself. They're an infamous, dangerous and powerful group at large. It's only natural that I'd be scared and worried that they would come back to cause trouble in some way. But then, two days ago, I heard a couple of students talking about how they'd seen the The Shield hanging around outside near the school and I felt a terrible chill run right down my spine, because I knew that it wasn't just an coincidence. I _knew_.

Just as I'd feared, The Shield's business with me was far from over.

Which brings me onto problem number two: My father.

I may not have told the police about what happened but there's no way I wasn't going to tell him. After all, if my suspicions were true than my father was getting himself into some dangerous shit and I needed to get him out of it right this instant. It honestly wouldn't surprise me if my dad was trying to live precariously, pretending he was some big, goddamn badass who could get away with this kind of shit.

Well, my father couldn't have cared less about me or my well-being. No, when I told him about how I'd almost got mutilated with a switch blade he was too busy getting all excited about how The Shield had straight up murdered Brad Maddox. He practically shoved me out of the way as he ran for the phone and called up his mysterious mate, hollering things like, "Good news! Our plan is working!" and "The fact that Heyman would pay The Shield to off Maddox shows that we've got the fuckers nice and scared!"

I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a little rejected.

The rest of the night was wholly unpleasant. When it became clear that my dear old dad had no intention of stopping his little blackmail schemes against this Paul Heyman and CM Punk, I flew into a hysterical state and had what was probably the worst argument I've probably ever had with him in my life. Objects were thrown, things like "Are you fucking out of your mind!? What is _wrong_ with you!?" were screamed until my throat was hoarse, and, come the morning, my dad was acting like nothing had even happened.

Since my dad wouldn't listen to me and I couldn't go to the cops, I'd confided in my friend. If I was completely honest, she wasn't doing very much to comfort me. Instead of patting me on the back and seeming concerned for my safety, she was too busy gushing over The Shield and moaning about how unfair it was that I'd actually got to meet them. _'I swear, she fawns over them just like some of the younger students do over Justin Bieber!'_

"Have you listened to a single word I've said?" I snap, finally losing my patience when said friend tells me I'm just being paranoid. "I saw The Shield kill someone and they attacked me! Ambrose and Reigns were seriously going to hurt me! I know Rollins stopped them but I can't shake this feeling that something bad is going to happen, you know?"

My friend rolls her eyes at me, a bored expression on her face. It pisses me off. "Are you sure it was even them and not some rival gang that's trying to copy them? Maybe you just thought it was them? It was pretty dark and you did bang your head hard…"

"I saw them before I banged my head!"

"Well, then maybe you just imagined it all, I don't know!" That pisses me off even more.

"Are you calling me a liar? Because I'm not! I know what I saw and I know what they tried to do to me. If that ruins your image of them, then tough shit! Maybe you should think about having a crush on normal guys for a change!"

My friend (or maybe "ex-friend" would be more appropriate now) started to talk in this maddeningly patronizing tone that made me want to punch her right in the face. "Look, don't take this the wrong way or anything, but why would a group like _The Shield_ even bother with someone like _you_? I mean, come on!"

"You know something? _Fuck you!_" I hiss, tears welling up in my eyes as I gather up my stuff and storm out. My art teacher calls out, telling me to stop, but I don't listen. Right now, the last place I want to be is at school and near the girl I once thought of as a friend. I just want to be alone (preferably with a tub of _Haagen__-__Dazs by my side)_ so I can wallow in the fact that I have nobody on my side, willing to help or believe me.

The walk back from school is quick and uneventful. All the kids and teenagers are in lessons – like I _should_ and normally would be – and most of the adults are at work. Apart from the cars driving by and the chirping of the birds around me, the streets are pretty quiet and I find it makes my walk all the more relaxing. Before long I start to feel my mood improve a little and my eyes dry up.

And then I hear footsteps behind me.

At first they're slow, softly treading compared to my brisk walk. But, then they get louder and are joined by other footsteps, seeming to get closer and closer to me… I don't dare glance over my shoulder, admittedly because I'm too afraid. Rather, I quicken my pace and, by the time I reach the underpass, break out into the run. The footsteps behind me do the same and I pray that they don't catch up to me.

They do.

Before I can let out a scream, before I can turn around and maybe try and kick them right where it hurts, before I can do _anything_, a hand holding some damp cloth is smashed against my mouth and in a matter of seconds my legs lose all strength and my whole world turns black.

'_Goddammit!'_

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**A/N:** If anyone has any suggestions please don't hesitate to tell me! Thank you for taking the time to read this and I looking forward to reading any reviews this receives!


	5. Lima

_Chapter 5: Lima_

When I wake up and quickly come to my senses, I realise that I'm now in an old, seemingly abandoned warehouse and tightly bound to a chair. Not much else to do, I inspect my surroundings a little closely, vaguely thinking to myself that my current situation kind of reminds me of that infamous scene from 'Reservoir Dogs'. God, I hope I don't end up losing my ear as well…

'_Dammit! I knew The Shield was going to do something but did anyone listen to me? Noooo! I was just being paranoid and an attention-seeker!'_ I mentally make a note to myself to get better friends and not put up with my dad's shit anymore. It would make my life a hell of a lot easier, that's for sure!

"Look, she's waking up" a voice suddenly speaks up behind me, causing me to jump a little. By the sounds of it, I reckon its Seth Rollins. Not as scratchy as Ambrose and not as deep as Reigns - more boyish and a tad bit whiny, if I was being brutally honest. If my ex-friend were here she'd probably get all super offended, but like I give a shit.

Still, that been said, when it comes to the three The Shield members, Rollins is definitely the one I feel the safest around. Not because he's nicer or anything ('_have I even talked to him?_') but because my history with the other two is less than pleasant. Roman Reigns and I clearly don't mesh well together while I fear that Dean Ambrose is going to knife me at any given moment and then bathe in my blood.

"Bout fuckin' time" Reigns grumbles, sounding incredibly fedup. "Any longer and I was going to pour water over her."

I frown when I hear Ambrose snickering afterwards. "Didn't I tell ya not to use chloroform? We should have just grabbed the bitch and chucked her in the trunk."

Rollins sighed in response. "I'm sorry, I just didn't want to run the risk of her screaming for help or fighting back and getting away. There's no way she can take on all three of us, but she still could have tried to bite or lowblow us, you know?"

"She ever tries to bite or lowblow me, I'm gonna break every bone in her puny little body!" I don't know what's worse: Reign's threat or that, if they hadn't knocked me out, I _would_ have defended myself exactly the way they described…

"Well, what's important is that The Shield's got her now." I hear Ambrose smacking Rollins on the shoulder and then dragging something out. "Go and get Heyman and Punk, Seth. Roman and I will watch over our special guest 'till you get back."

'_Shit!' _That's the last thing I wanted to happen!

With only a passing glance my way, Seth Rollins walks right past me and out of the warehouse, his blonde/black hair let down for a change. I can only hope he doesn't take too long getting Punk and Heyman but, knowing my luck, it's is going to be looong couple of minutes with the remaining two members of The Shield.

I hear loud footsteps approaching from behind me and suddenly Dean Ambrose comes into view, carrying a chair which he dumps down right in front of me. And then, like the many cops in those crime dramas on TV, he sits backwards on it, smirking. As for Roman Reigns, he's leaning against a pile of boxes, holding a camcorder whilst staring coldly at me.

After a minute or so of just silence and a whole lot of staring, I decide to break it with some small talk. "I know I'm probably wasting my time even asking this, but, is there any chance you could untie me and let me go?"

"No." Shot down by Roman Reigns in less than a second. Bastard.

"Yeah, figured as much." I muttered dryly, turning back to face Ambrose who seems incapable of staying still. Rather than the blind panic I felt the last time I was with them, I just feel incredibly pissed off now. There's a lot of pent up sarcasm just dying to come out of my mouth, but I'm not stupid. I'm well aware that one poor choice of words could mean the end for me. So, I decide to test the waters and see just where my limit is…

"You know, for a group that goes _on and on_ about principles and being a shield against injustice, don't you think what you're doing right now is a little hypocritical? I haven't done anything wrong but you still do this to me? Where's the fairness in that?" Reigns looks like he's at the end of his tether while Ambrose merely looks amused (which doesn't surprise me because I always suspected he thrives on situations such as these).

"You've got quite the mouth on you, haven't ya, sunshine? You've got some spirit, some standards. I like that. Know what else I like? For you to shut the fuck up and put that mouth of yours to better use." Ambrose licks his lips and his smirk becomes more sinister. "That mouth on you would be so much better on me and rest of The Shield."

'_Oh dear god…_' The idea of doing anything remotely sexual with this lunatic makes you feel like I'm going to be sick. With a lot of restraint, I hold back a stream of expletives, gather up my courage and simply reply, "Do I look desperate to you? Save those kinds of lines for the skanks and girls who are willing to put up with your psycho bullshit."

I expected him to do something after saying that. I expected him to lose it and start screaming or to try and beat the crap out of me. Instead he chuckled, his fingers twitching and drumming against the chair. I found that response far, far worse. "I definitely like you. You're a fuckin' bitch, but that's what turns me on. The more fight a girl has in her, the more fun I find it is to break her down completely." His eyes roamed my body, as if looking into your very soul. "I'd have you begging for mercy in no time."

I shudder, unable to hide my fear this time. "You wish, you sadistic SOB", I mutter under my breath. I'm starting to realise that I'm in way over my head when it comes to Dean Ambrose. At least Roman Reigns, angry and quick-tempered though he may be, is sane in the head. Ambrose on the other hand is a loose cannon, and a violent one at that. This guy could really fuck me up, physically _and_ emotionally if given the chance!

It was then that Roman Reigns decided to join my little conversation with Dean – probably the first time I've ever been grateful towards the big guy!

"Shut the fuck up or I'll gag you." He growled in my face, cracking his knuckles. He then turns to Dean, pacing back and forth impatiently. "Did Punk and Heyman say how long they want us to keep a hold of her for? For fuck's sake, we've spent the last week following this bitch all over the place! _I want this shit to be over with!_"

I should have known better than to open my mouth at that moment, but I've always had this terrible knack for speaking at the most inappropriate times to relieve tension. It never helps and, if I weren't so damn pissed off and freaked out, I'd listen to my more rational side telling me it wasn't about to work now. But, I didn't, so I went ahead and said this:

"Listen, don't take this the wrong way or anything, but, first you stalk me and now you kidnap me? Don't you guys have families or things to do, right? Or do you mean to tell me you really have nothing better to do with your lives? I mean, come on!"

A roar rang out in the warehouse and Roman Reigns lunged for me, hands outstretched like he was about to throttle me neck. '_Well shit_', I thought to myself, struggling against the ropes binding me and looking much like a cat that was about to get run over by a car, '_I guess I've found my limit…_"

Lucky for me, Ambrose got to Reigns in time before he could do any serious damage. For a couple of seconds it looked like the huge Samoan was going to chuck him off and get to me, but Ambrose, like a wild dog with some food, would just not quit and kept coming back at him. Eventually Reigns calmed down and he went back to the pile of boxes, glowering at me with a downright murderous look.

Before I could so much let out a sigh of relief, Ambrose sauntered over towards me and, _SLAP_, backhanded me right across the face. It hurt like a bitch and my eyes immediately started to well up from the pain.

"Don't get sassy, you little bitch. When The Shield tells you to do something, you do it! Now, if we so much as hear another word out of you, this," he withdrew a fork from his pocket. It had what appeared to be dry blood on it and the pointy bits were blunt, "Will be carving into your skull. Do I make myself clear, sunshine?"

"You-You can't do that!" I yell, trembling a little now. "I've done nothing wrong! I haven't done anything to you or this Punk and Heyman!"

"Maybe not, Miss, but your _father_ has. It's because of him and his degenerate friends that my client and I have been forced to pay The Shield for their services in 'fixing' this little problem. So, if you're going to blame anyone for your current predicament, than I suggest you point the finger at _him_!" A voice with a New York Jewish accent boomed from far away.

Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns and I look up to see Seth Rollins at the entrance of the warehouse with two other men – CM Punk and Paul Heyman.

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**A/N:** If anyone has any suggestions please don't hesitate to tell me! Thank you for taking the time to read this and I looking forward to reading any reviews this receives!


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